The Night of the Mardi Gras
by BarkingatJim
Summary: Jim and Artie are enjoying themselves at Mardi Gras. What could go wrong? There are references to my previous stories TNOT Mexican Revenge and TNOT Floundering Female. You don't need to have read them to understand the story though. Please read and review.
1. Eleven Days and Counting

**The Night of the Mardi Gras**

Chapter 1

 **Eleven Days and Counting**

Artemus Gordon got down from his horse, sore in body and mind after the long, lonely ride to Beaumont. He had kept his mind focused on his mission for the past few days, but now weariness was overtaking him and he was finding it hard not to fall apart with the grief that was a permanent companion, waiting for an opportunity to ambush him when he was too tired to fight it. It had dogged his footsteps as he travelled across the country, from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, then Lafayette, and now Beaumont. He had travelled some of the way on the Wanderer and some on horseback. If only he could make sense of recent happenings, that's if there was any sense to it, which he was beginning to doubt. All he could do was continue his mission; to find out who had killed James West.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie endured a disturbed night's sleep in the hotel. He had got used to waking up several times, unable to totally relax. There was no point in staying in bed so Artie got up and, after a cup of strong, black coffee, saddled up his horse and took a ride out to the local doctor's house. It was over a year since he had met Lieutenant Lance Kirby, when he and Jim had attended his marriage to Rebekah 'Sweetie' Sweetman. Six months ago, Kirby had left the army and started up in general practice on the outskirts of Beaumont. Artie was in need of a familiar face and some conversation. The men he was following were already a couple of days ahead of him and he felt that a short break would do no harm and would be of benefit to him. It wasn't as if there was any real urgency to his mission; nothing could bring Jim West back to life. It would also be good to catch up with Sweetie again and find out what catastrophes had befallen her since they had last met.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

When he arrived at the small neat house where the Kirbys lived, Artie could hear shouting coming from the back garden. He sped round there to find Sweetie fighting over a pair of pantaloons with a dog. For the first time, in a while, Artie found himself smiling.

Sweetie spotted him out of the corner of her eye. "Don't just stand there!" she yelled. "Do something to help me!"

Artie picked up the dog, which was quite a small one, doing so from behind, so as to avoid being bitten, and shook it until it dropped the leg of the undergarment.

"Thank you," Sweetie said, gathering the lace-trimmed article under her arm, out of reach of the dog, before she looked up to see who it was.

"Artie! What are you doing here? Come into the house," she added, taking him by the hand and dragging him through the back door.

Once inside, she shut the door and placed the pantaloons with some other clothes that were in a basket, standing on the kitchen table.

"Little beast," she said. "Came straight into the house and stole the thing from right under my nose. What would a dog want with my undergarments anyway?" she demanded.

Artie could think of no reasonable answer to that. "It's good to see you, Sweetie," he said.

Sweetie looked at him properly for the first time and noticed the change in him. He looked so tired and the light had gone out of his eyes. The fact that he was trying to dredge up a smile for her made her heart turn over with compassion.

"Artie, how are you? I'm sorry, that's a stupid question. You poor thing," she said hugging him, trying to give him some comfort. "You must be feeling awful, I know I do, and I didn't know Jim anywhere near as well as you did Is there anything I can do; tell me if there's something, anything?"

For some reason, Artie found Sweetie's flow of words, and the feeling of her arms around him, comforting. You could always rely on her to say exactly what she was thinking and the only other person who had not pussy-footed around his feelings was President Grant. But he was a long way away and no doubt mourning, in his own way, the death of a man who had been like a son to him.

"Thank you, Sweetie. It's good to see you again, even under the circumstances."

"How long is it now?" she asked.

"Eleven days," Artie said, his voice almost ready to break. He just couldn't pull himself together, no matter how hard he tried. He managed to dredge up a small smile for the woman in front of him, though. "How is Lance?" he asked.

"He's fine; he's out visiting a patient, you don't need to be worrying about him," she dismissed. "It's you we need to concentrate on. Come and sit down and tell me about it, if you can bear to, of course."

Artie shied away from her request for a second, the memory was still raw, but he looked into Sweetie's eyes and knew that he wanted to tell someone, and he felt able to tell her. He sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the range and steadied his emotions.

"It all happened so quickly," he began.

"We heard you were on a mission in Louisiana."

"Yes, we had just dealt with a plot to kill the governor. Jim had been injured slightly and we decided to head to New Orleans for some convalescence."

Sweetie could guess what form that 'convalescence' would have taken – wine, women and more wine, and then more women, was her guess. "What happened next?" she asked.

"We arrived on the Wanderer, in time for Mardi Gras, as planned. Jim and I had a great time," he said and it was obvious from his eyes that he was seeing Jim as he was then. "Jim was wearing a matador costume, the traje de luces, or suit of lights, with the distinctive montera on his head. It really suited him and he cut a real fine figure."

"I wish I'd seen it," Sweetie said. "What were you wearing?"

"I was dressed as a pirate," Artie said, coming back to the present. "I had the eye-patch, the earring and the tricorn hat, everything except the parrot, in fact." He smiled at that. "Anyway, Jim was just a magnet for the ladies, as usual, and one in particular caught his eye. Her name was Carla and she had long, ebony hair. She approached Jim and took him by the hand and he gave me a look that said, 'what else can I do?' and allowed her to lead him away."

"Just like that?"

"That is – I mean that _was_ just like Jim. It was the last time I saw him, except at a distance. I went out onto the balcony of the building I was in and saw Jim and the girl board a pleasure boat. It had only gone a few hundred yards down the river when there was a massive explosion." Artie had to stop there. The memory of that night was overwhelming still. He swallowed hard.

Sweetie put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Oh Artie, it must have been terrible. I can't imagine what I would have done if that had been Lance on that boat. You don't have to go on if it's too painful."

Artie place his hand over hers. "I'm alright," he said. "There wasn't much to see in the darkness, but the next morning when they searched the river they found only unrecognisable fragments of bodies. The explosion had blown the passengers to pieces. I was there the whole time, hoping for a miracle, but when they handed me his black montera I knew that Jim was gone."

"What have you been doing since then?" Sweetie asked.

"I returned to Washington and made my report of his death. President Grant was pretty cut up, when he heard, and a memorial service was held. They had to bury an empty coffin."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, it hurt a lot. Anyway, I was allowed free reign to return to New Orleans to investigate the explosion and find out who was responsible."

"So it wasn't an accident, then?"

"They found traces of a large bomb having been placed in the hold, enough to obliterate the boat and everyone on board."

"Do you think the woman was involved?"

"I don't think so; she was a victim as well. I don't even know who the real target was. There were only a handful of people on board. I went through a list of their names but none stuck out. I stayed in New Orleans, listening to rumours and infiltrating the criminal fraternity. I had to go around in disguise for several days."

"Not as a pirate, I hope."

Artie smiled. "No, it was something a little more subtle than that. Anyway, I picked up clues that led me to one town after another until I reached Beaumont, so I decided to come and see you and Lance."

"I'm so glad you did. You need to be with friends at a time like this. Goodness me, where are my manners?" Sweetie said. "What must you think of me? You stay there and I'll fetch you a cup of coffee."

Artie did as he was told. The kitchen was warm and welcoming and the chair was very comfortable. He soon had a cup of coffee in his hand and he took a sip. Sweetie sat in the chair opposite his.

"So where are you going from here?" she asked.

"I've had sightings of the men I'm after in several towns between here and New Orleans. In Lafayette they were overhead talking about heading to Laredo. I'm going to catch up with the Wanderer in Austin, a few days from now. Until then I'll be camping out."

"In that case you really must stay for lunch. It will probably be the last decent meal you eat for a while. You can't go without seeing Lance anyway."

"That's very kind of you," Artie said. "I'd like that."

"You won't mind if I carry on with the cooking, will you?" Sweetie said. "You just relax."

Artie strangely felt able to do that for the first time in ages and within minutes his head lolled to one side and he was fast asleep. Sweetie gently placed a cushion under his head and left him there, taking his almost full coffee mug with her.

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	2. The Road to Laredo

**The Night of the Mardi Gras**

Chapter 2

 **The Road to Laredo**

When Artie woke up he was unsure of his surroundings for s split second and, as always, nowadays, his first thought was of Jim and his loss. He groaned and then heard a loud crash as a something smashed on the floor not far from him and Sweetie said, "Well, it's goodbye to that. Ah, you're awake," she added. "Good, I'm just about to dish up lunch. You'd better come and sit at the table."

Before Artie could move, Lance Kirby entered the kitchen. "Not another plate." he said.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, but don't worry, Artie and Jim were kind enough to give us enough crockery to last a lifetime. There are plenty left."

Artie couldn't help remembering the conversation Jim and he had had over the wedding gift. Artie was against buying Sweetie anything breakable but Jim persuaded him that if they gave her ten times the usual amount of crockery she would always have enough left, no matter how clumsy she was. How like Jim to have such a good idea, and one that had pleased Sweetie because she was well aware of the thoughtfulness behind the extravagant gift.

"Hello Mr Gordon," Lance said, turning to Artie. "It's good to see you."

"And you, Dr Kirby."

"What's all this?" Sweetie interrupted. "Enough of this Kirby and Gordon nonsense; it's Lance and Artie between the two of you," she said.

"She's right, of course," Lance said, "if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Artie agreed.

Sweetie smiled in satisfaction. "Now sit down the pair of you before the food gets cold."

Lunch turned out to be fried chicken, mashed potatoes and corn. There was rice pudding, topped with peaches, for dessert, the same dish that Artie remembered Sweetie feeding him when he was a prisoner of Dr Loveless. It tasted even better now than it had back then.

Sweetie was keeping a protective eye on her guest. When she had first seen Artie earlier, he had seemed to her to have lost weight. She put this down to a mixture of grief over Jim and the fact that he had probably only been eating food that was available to him on the trail. She watched him, to make sure he ate everything she placed before him, determined that he would leave her house with something substantial inside him.

Sweetie was a good cook and Artie found himself eating with pleasure for the first time since...even in his mind he wouldn't acknowledge the event that had taken his best friend and almost-brother away from him.

During the meal Lance had taken time to offer his condolences and said nothing further on the matter, knowing that his wife would already have expressed all the consolation and comfort possible.

After lunch, Artie reluctantly took his leave of them, saying goodbye with tears in his eyes that were mirrored in Sweetie's.

"Take care of yourself and make sure you eat properly," she shouted to him as he mounted his horse and rode away from the couple and their charming house. He would have liked to stay longer but he was still on a mission and he couldn't delay indefinitely. If he was successful he would reward himself with a further visit to the Kirby household, on his way back to Washington.

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Before leaving Beaumont, Artie stopped in at the jail to have a word with the sheriff, the one who had helped him and Jim bring in Senora Diaz and her Son. He found him sitting at his desk with a cup of coffee in front of him and he was forking food into his mouth from a plate of gravy and grits.

"Hi, Sheriff," Artie greeted him.

"Why, if it isn't Artemus Gordon," the Sheriff said, wiping his lips on a napkin before standing up to shake hands with his old acquaintance. "What brings you to Beaumont?"

Artie explained his sad mission and the sheriff was very sympathetic. "I've lost many a good deputy, keeping law and order around here," he said. "We're in a dangerous business, Mr Gordon."

Artie acknowledged the truthfulness of that statement and then continued with the reason for his visit.

"I've been tracking the two men responsible for Jim's death and the last person who saw them claimed they were headed for Laredo. Before I head down there I was hoping you might have some information for me. For instance, have you seen any strangers pass through here lately?"

"Now I come to think of it I did come upon a makeshift campsite in the woods just outside of town. Must have been three or four days ago. There were two men and a woman and they had a sick child with them, all wrapped up in a blanket, in a wagon. They were heading south, or so they said. Could that be them?"

"I don't know," Artie said. "I wouldn't expect a woman to be with them and certainly not a child, sick or otherwise. Oh well, there's nothing to do but head south to Laredo and see if I can pick up their trail."

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee before you go?" the Sheriff asked.

"No thanks, I've had my morning's quota already," Artie replied. "Be seeing you," he added, tipping his hat in the Sheriff's direction prior to leaving the jail.

The Sheriff went back to eating his breakfast.

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Artie was a matter of half a mile outside of Beaumont when he was attacked. Something small and furry launched itself from the bushes, as if being chased, and landed in front of him, causing the chestnut horse to rear up. Artie steadied his mount, just managing to avoid trampling the small creature to death. He rapidly got down from his horse and grabbed hold of the now-cowering creature, which turned out to be the dog that had been at Sweetie's house earlier. It was trembling and whining in Artie's arms and Artie proceeded to stroke its head and tweak its ears, using calming motions.

"Hey, little fella, it's all right; you're safe now. What are you doing this far from town? You got no home to go to, eh? I guess we're both on our own. Maybe we should team up together, what do you say?"

The dog looked up at him expectantly, with a cute expression.

"I'll take that as a yes," Artie said, lifting the dog up onto his horse and getting up behind it.

"Now what am I going to call you? I know, Jasper," he said, remembering the dog that had bitten him after being accidentally mistreated by Sweetie. "Then you'll remind me of my friend, Sweetie, and I won't feel so lonesome."

Jasper, now totally unlike the dog who had wrestled Sweetie for her pantaloons, turned his head and licked Artie's face.

"Now that's enough of that," Artie said, settling the animal between him and the pommel. He liked the feel of its soft fur against his hands as he made sure it was comfortable. It was in this fashion that Artie and Jasper set off on their long journey to the Mexican border.

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On the way to Austin, Artie came across many old campsites and guessed that one or more had been used by the men he was looking for. Were they on horseback or did they have a wagon?

After a few days, Artie and Jasper arrived in Austin and the train was already waiting just outside of town.

Once on board Artie tried to take more interest in what he ate and spent time in the galley, concocting some of the same delicious dishes that he used to serve up for Jim and himself. He had always thought that good food was wasted on his partner, who was just as happy eating beef jerky or a cold chicken leg.

Artie hadn't set foot in Jim's stateroom since returning from New Orleans, feeling unable to enter the space which had known Jim's presence for so long. It helped him to keep up the illusion that his friend was alive and well, behind the closed door, and could appear at any moment, that look of amusement on his face.

During the journey, Artie started to blame Jim for what had happened _. ' It was his fault for going off with that woman. Why hadn't he stayed with Artie? Why had he allowed himself to be dragged onto that boat? Why did Jim have to be such a damned womaniser?'_

Artie banged his fist on the table and Jasper jumped.

He continued to ponder these questions, fuelling his anger. Meanwhile, Jasper proved to be a good companion, happy to eat the morsels of cooked meat that his master gave him. He would lie obediently at Artie's feet while he sat on the sofa in the evening, drinking whisky while bleak thoughts and old memories assailed him. At night, the dog slept at the end of Artie's bed.

By the time the Wanderer reached the outskirts of Laredo, Artie had calmed down and had reached a much more balanced view of the past. He accepted that it was the men he was following who were responsible for Jim's death and he was once again able to mourn his friend without recriminations.

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Once Artie left the train, he rode into town and stopped at a small cantina called La Rosa Polenta. He went inside looking for a drink and some information.

It was early evening and the place was busy, serving dinner. Artie ended up ordering fajitas with his drink. Jasper was with him and the dog was lying at his feet, under the table.

Eventually a young woman came over with a bone in her hand, and bent down to offer it to Jasper. Jasper was obviously pleased with the gift as Artie could hear his tail thumping on the wooden floor. The woman stood up and said, "I hope you didn't mind me giving your dog a bone, senor."

Artie got the shock of his life. "Carla?" he rasped, feeling his mind spin.

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	3. The Prisoner

**The Night of the Mardi Gras**

Chapter 3

 **The Prisoner**

The girl took a step back. "Senor?" she said.

Artie stood up and grasped her by the upper arms, partly to confirm that she was real and partly to prevent her from disappearing.

"You were in New Orleans with James West. You took him onto the pleasure boat. How can you be here? Tell me!" he said, shaking her.

The girl look startled and hung her head. "My name is Adriana, Senor," she said. "I think you must have met my twin sister, Carla. She is not a good girl; my family have disowned her. I am sorry if she caused any harm to Senor West."

Artie's hands fell away. "Please accept my apologies," he said. "My friend, James ", is dead and so is your sister Carla."

Adriana gasped, as if with shock. When she had composed herself she said, "I am not surprised. The men she mixed with were not nice."

"May I offer you my condolences, Senorita," Artie said.

"Yes, thank you, Senor. Now I must get back to my work."

With that she turned and walked away. Artie stayed where he was, stunned by the similarity between Adriana and her twin sister. At the same time he wondered who the men were that she had become mixed up with and whether it was they who had planted the bomb. If Carla had lived in Laredo then maybe the killers had as well. Still, it seemed odd that they would have blown Carla up, along with the boat, and he still didn't know what their motive had been.

He left the cantina without finishing his meal and went back to the Wanderer with Jasper following behind, carrying the prized bone with him.

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The suave-looking, richly dressed Hidalgo strutted into the saloon and, removing his hat, strode up to the bar. His eyes roved over the bottles lined up there, and he made a sound that could only be described as "tsk".

"Is that the best you have?" He asked in a Mexican accent, pointing to the display of bottles.

"I keep the good whisky under the counter," the bartender replied.

The Hidalgo sighed. "Then that will have to do," he said.

Once the drink was in front of him, the Hidalgo took a sip, grimaced, said "what I wouldn't give for a fine Amontillado," and turned to survey the rest of the saloon's clientele. Then he turned his attention back to the bartender.

"With this establishment being situated where it is, I expect you see many men on their way to the border with Mexico," he commented.

"We get a fair few," the bartender replied.

"And some of them are fleeing the law, no doubt."

"Some I guess. Why do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously.

"Do not be alarmed. I am not a federal agent in disguise, if that is what worries you."

"What are you doing here then?"

"I am in the position of having paid some men to carry out a small, shall we say, 'task' for me. Having already placed my trust in them I wish to offer them further employment. I was hoping you might be able to help me find out their whereabouts."

"Don't see as how I can be of any help."

"Well, it might be that you have seen these men, my friend. There are two of them travelling together. One of them is an American, tall and built like a hacienda. The other is Hispanic, short and slim, with a moustache."

"You do not know their names, Senor?"

"I didn't think it necessary to find out at the time. Can you help me?"

"What is there in it for me?"

"Twenty U.S. dollars."

"Make it fifty and I will tell you what I know."

"Alright," the hidalgo said, taking out his wallet and placing five notes on the bar.

"The men you are looking for came through here last week. I have only seen them once or twice. They work for one of the rich landowners, in a town about five miles from here, over the border, called El Pueblo del Secreto."

"Secret Town," the hidalgo mused. "What are their names?"

"I heard them call each other Larry and Pablo. I don't know any more than that, except they had a wagon with them the last time I saw them."

"Thank you my friend," the hidalgo said. He left the saloon, mounted his horse and went in the direction of the railroad.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The men Artie had been following had made good time travelling from New Orleans. Because there were two of them they could travel through the night, each taking his turn at the reins of the wagon, while the other slept in the back, changing horses at selected towns along the way. They had no idea they had been spotted hanging around the pleasure boat by revellers celebrating Mardi Gras. The reason for their haste was that they had promised their employer they would return within a week. By the time Artie had arrived in Laredo they had been back in El Pueblo del Secreto for six days, working on their employer's estate. One of their tasks was to look after a guest that their employer had quartered in one of the stone outhouses, well away from the hacienda.

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The prisoner would have laughed to know that he was referred to as a guest because surely no guest had ever been treated so brutally. His clothes had been taken away from him on the day of his capture and he had been dressed in the white trousers and tunic worn by the Mexican peons. He had been bundled into the back of a wagon and been drugged for the first part of the journey to an unknown destination, apart from the times when he had been woken to either eat or drink. After that, he had been tied, hand and foot. He had also been gagged, when anyone was around. It was heartening to know that they wanted him alive but it also occurred to him that it might be because they wanted him to suffer; you couldn't do that if you were dead.

On arrival at his final destination, he had been locked inside a brick structure. A strong set of bars were set into the floor and sectioned off half of the internal space. Within this 'cell' was nothing but a bucket, for use as a chamber pot, so he had to sleep on the stone floor. A lockable slit in the door to the cell was used to deliver food and remove empty dishes. The food was very basic and there was very little of it, but this was not the worst of his confinement, as he had become used to that during the war.

On the first day, two men had walked in and hosed him down with a powerful blast of water. He was then left to shiver in his damp clothing during the long, cold night. The second day, he had had the sense to strip off his clothes before the hosing down began and was able to keep them dry. Although this routine was quite brutal, he welcomed the chance to keep clean as this was essential if he was to remain as healthy as possible during his incarceration. To this end he spent as much time as possible doing press-ups and other strength-building exercises.

He had been puzzled as to the reason he was being kept prisoner until the second day, when he had received a visit from the man who was owner of the establishment and his captor.

"Good day, Mr West, let me introduce myself," he said. "My name is Senor Alfredo Alvarado."

"Is that name supposed to mean something to me?" Jim asked. "And why have you kidnapped me?"

"Perhaps if I tell you that my daughter Dolores was married to Mr Liston Day, you will understand the answer to both of those questions."

"Well, well, Senora Diaz is your daughter. How is she these days?"

"She is living in hell, as well you know, because you put her there."

"I wouldn't say the Waco women's correctional facility is as bad as all that," Jim replied.

"You may be a glib as you like, Mr West. I hope that you find the accommodation here to your liking, as you will be staying for a very long time, as long as my daughter is in prison. You see I don't particularly want to harm you; no, I would rather see you fade away, day by day, as you endure the discomfort and monotony of being held in a small, bare cell for a very long time. I bid you farewell, Mr West. I will visit you in a month or so to see if you are as cocky then as you are now."

"Don't forget to close the door on your way out," Jim said.

Senor Alvarado turned on his heel and left, but not before issuing the order, "no food or water for the rest of the day!"

"Does that mean my usual shower is out of the question?" was Jim's retort.

When Alvarado was gone Jim had time to meditate on his situation and wondered if this was how things were going to end, or if Artie would find him. He couldn't rely on that so he decided he'd just better come up with an escape plan of his own.

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	4. The River

**The Night of the Mardi Gras**

Chapter 4

 **The River**

After five days in the cell, Jim was just about coping. It was tough sleeping on the cold stone floor every night. He would take naps standing upright, leaning against the bars of his cell, in the sunlight, or slept sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall. He kept his spirits up by believing that he would think of some way out of it. Senor Alvarado hadn't counted on this optimistic aspect of Jim's personality; one that helped to make him such a successful secret agent.

Added to the harsh, cold showers was the noisome smell of the bucket in his cell which was emptied only every couple of days. It was not a healthy situation.

After a week, Jim saw his chance to escape. That morning the two men acting as his jailers came in to empty the bucket. As usual, the big guy entered the cell, while the shorter Mexican stayed outside holding a rifle aimed at Jim.

"I ought to tip this over your head," the larger man said, lifting the bucket in the air.

"Go on, Larry, do it!" the other man yelled.

Without realising it, he came closer than usual, while talking to his mate, wanting to see the fun. He made the mistake of poking the barrel of the rifle through the bars. Within seconds Jim leapt forward and grabbed the weapon, wresting it from the man's hands. He turned it on the big guy and kept him at bay while he forced his other jailer into the cell. Then he locked the door and threw the key into a corner of the building. The men were shouting but Jim didn't stick around to see if help came. He ran from the building and followed the gravel track that led to a stand of trees and, beyond that, some low hills covered in scrub. The gravel hurt his bare feet but he ignored it and ran as fast as he could, rifle still in hand. Once through the trees, he had to break cover in order to cross the scrub. He hugged the indent at the top of the first incline, darting as quickly as possible along the hill. As he made a run for the top, a shot rang out and he felt a hot burning sensation on the side of his head. There was another shot and he was thrown in the air. He landed hard and was unable to get up for a while. He lay in the early morning sunshine, his head spinning, trying to work out where he had been shot. There was a growing pain in his lower left leg and it soon became extreme. He was now on the other side of the hill and could not be seen unless he stood up, so he crawled painfully away, on all fours, into some bushes, half-dragging his injured leg, on the other side was a small river and, his head ringing, Jim collapsed half on and half off the bank. The fast-flowing river took him and he floated away.

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Back at the Wanderer Artie was pondering his next move. If he went down to El Pueblo del Secreto in an official capacity, he could be endangering his life, especially if Jim had been the target of the man he was looking for. He was convinced now that this man was the owner of the estate where the two men, Larry and Pablo worked.

But what disguise would suit his purposes best? He finally made his decision and it was a good one because he could take Jasper with him, so he wouldn't have to leave him on the Wanderer.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The cold water revived Jim and, choking, he managed to force himself onto his back. He wasn't able to haul himself out of the river though and was carried on down to a bend, where he became snagged on the low branch of a tree. He hung there for about thirty minutes before he came round enough to pull himself up into the tree and then onto the river bank, where he collapsed again, drying out in the sunshine.

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Jim woke up with the bright sunshine in his eyes and a strange feeling in his leg, which was explained when he lifted his head and saw an ebony-haired woman bending over it, tearing the leg of his trousers to get to the wound. He groaned loudly at the pain that ran through his skull, on moving his head.

"Oh, you're awake," a feminine voice said.

"Carla?" Jim said, about to lift his head again.

"Sshhh, keep your head still," she said. It's good that the river water has washed your wounds clean. The bullet has lodged in your leg, but not too deeply. I don't know how bad your head is."

"It's nothing," Jim said, blearily.

The woman turned his head to the side. "The bullet has torn your scalp. It will be painful."

"Tell me something I don't know," Jim muttered.

"I will take you to my house."

The woman looked around her. She had a horse and buggy with her but didn't know how she would get Jim into the vehicle.

"I will help you stand up," she said.

Jim did his best to get to his knees, crying out in pain. "Here let me help you," the woman said, taking his arm.

Jim threw himself down in the buggy and lay there, breathing hard. The woman took the reins, directed the horses in the direction of the border, and drove them hard. She was heading for her house in Laredo and away from the influence of Alfredo Alvarado.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Not long after these events, a man in a natty suit and a brown derby hat drove a surrey to the gates of the Alvarado estate and headed for the main house. He had long sideburns and a moustache and sitting beside him was a little dog. He was stopped by two men with rifles and jumped down to meet them face to face.

"Where's the owner of this here spread?" he asked in an authentic Texas drawl.

"Who wants to know?" one of them asked.

"Well, sonny, my business is with the main honcho, so I don't feel inclined to answer that."

"The boss will not see you. He is a busy man."

"Well so am I, sonny, so why don't you just go and tell him I'm here."

"Who are you and what is your business?" the man asked.

"My name is William Boudin, (he pronounced it bow-dene), and I'm about to make Mr Alvarado an offer that will revolutionise his operation here. I'm a dealer in bull sperm. Now you're probably saying to yourself that it's not possible to transport such a delicate material but that's where my patented dry ice container comes in."

Suddenly there was the noise of shouting coming from an outbuilding in the distance.

"Go and see what the noise is all about, Miguel!" one of the guards ordered the other.

Miguel took off in the direction of the outbuilding.

"If I can be of any use, I'd sure be pleased to help," the Texan offered.

"No, I will ask Senor Alvarado if he will see you. Wait here!"

But he didn't enter the house because there were two gun shots and then they noticed three men running toward them. Boudin identified one as Miguel; the other two were the men he had been looking for, Larry and Pablo.

"Where's the boss?" Larry demanded, out of breath.

"What's up? What were you shooting at?"

"That's Alvarado's business, not yours. Where is he?"

"Hey, I get to see him first," the Texan inserted.

"Keep out of this, you!" Larry said.

Boudin shrugged and turned toward the surrey. He climbed up beside the dog and, while the four men were arguing, drove the vehicle in the direction of the building he had seen the two men leaving. The door was open and he took a quick look inside as he drove past. It looked like some kind of jail and he wondered what had been going on in there. However, it was obvious no one was inside now, so he drove on, turned the surrey round, and headed back toward the house.

"Tell Senor Alvarado I'll see him tomorrow," he shouted to the guards and then went out through the gate.

Once he was out of sight, Boudin ditched the surrey behind some bushes, returned to the estate, climbed over a wall, and crept stealthily back up to the rear of the house.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


	5. The Little Yellow House

**The Night of the Mardi Gras**

Chapter 5

 **The Little Yellow House**

The young Mexican woman drove the buggy up to the door of a little yellow house and jumped down to tend to her injured passenger. Jim appeared to be unconscious or asleep. She couldn't lift him down by herself, so she shook him, to try and wake him up.

Jim groaned. "Wha's happnin?" he said, groggily.

"James, you have to wake up and get out of the buggy."

"Right," Jim said, not moving.

"James!"

"Yeah," he said, moving sluggishly and dangling his legs over the edge of the vehicle.

"Be careful of your leg," the woman instructed him, helping him to manoeuvre into the best position to climb down.

Once on the ground, Jim leaned heavily on the shoulder that was proffered to him and limped through the front door and into a room that contained an open fire place, a table and chairs and other pieces of furniture necessary for daily life. The young woman helped him walk to the back room, where there was a bed. He lay down on it and promptly fainted. Even though it was a warm day, the woman placed a blanket over him and went into the other room to fetch a cloth and some cold water.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Boudin approached a window at the back of the hacienda, through which he could make out a man sitting at a desk; presumably Alvarado. He removed a listening device from his inside jacket pocket and stuck it onto the window in the bottom left hand corner. Then he placed the earpiece in position and squatted down, below, the window, just as the two men entered the room.

"Senor Alvarado, we have a problem," Pablo said.

"What is it?" Alvarado asked, annoyed at being interrupted.

"James West escaped from his cell."

Boudin abruptly sat down, where he was standing, his senses reeling. Jim was here, alive and a prisoner; at least he had been. He tried to concentrate on what they were saying.

"We had to shoot him dead," Larry said.

Boudin's heart plummeted down to his boots, causing him to become light-headed. Jim was dead all over again. If only he'd got there sooner. Why had he taken so long? Why had he wasted so much time? Because they'd all thought Jim was dead.

"How did it happen?"

The two men shame-facedly explained how the prisoner had escaped. Alvarado was not pleased and tore them both off a strip.

"However, what is done is done," he finally said. "Where is the body?"

"We couldn't find it. It looks like he fell in the river and drowned."

Boudin became ashen-faced. What a terrible end for his dearest friend and brother. He felt like breaking the window and shooting the three inhabitants of the room. There were two things that stopped him. One was that he still didn't know the reason why Alvarado would want to keep Jim a prisoner and to make everyone think he was dead. The other was that he was a Government Agent and he needed to do things by the book. He had no jurisdiction in Mexico and he certainly couldn't arrest anyone, let alone shoot them. He would have to think of a way to lure them across the border into the United States. He dismantled his apparatus and crept back to the surrey and the patient Jasper.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Once he was back on board the Wanderer, Artie euphemistically 'tied one on'. His spirits, where Jim was concerned, had been raised and just as quickly dashed again, to send him spiralling into a dark chasm and, unable to allow his feelings to take over, he dulled the pain with some single malt whisky. He stumbled to his room, threw himself on the bed and was almost instantly fast asleep.

Artie woke up a couple of hours later and, thankfully, his hangover was subdued by a cup of strong, bitter coffee and he was soon almost himself again. He began to reason that, if James had not been killed in the explosion then the chances were that Carla hadn't been either. In that case, he should visit Adriana and tell her of the possibility that her sister was still alive.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie rode to La Rosa Polenta and was disappointed to find that it was Adriana's day off.

"When will she be back in," Artie asked.

"Not until the day after tomorrow. Is it urgent?"

"I have some news about her sister Carla."

"You must be mistaken, Adriana doesn't have a sister."

"Are you sure?" Artie asked.

"Yes, I've known her for many years."

"You know where she lives then."

"Yes, she lives in the little yellow house, just as you leave town."

"That should be easy enough to find. Thank you."

Artie felt excited. It looked like he had found the woman who had lured Jim onto the pleasure boat. She was living on the right side of the border for him to arrest her, and that was exactly what he planned to do.

The little yellow house was easy to find. It had only one storey and there were pretty little window-boxes filled with sweet-smelling jasmine, and snapdragons.

Artie looked in the front window and could see Adriana emerging from a room at the back of the house. He tested the front door and found it unlocked. He drew his sidearm and pushed the door open.

"Don't move, senorita!" he said, moving inside.

"Please do not shoot, Senor."

"Sit in that chair and don't move!" Artie ordered her.

Adriana did as she was told and Artie watched her from cross the room, suddenly aware that she was going in and out of focus. He blinked and felt his legs wobble under him. What the hell was happening? He heard Adriana speak through the buzzing in his ears.

"Are you all right, senor? Perhaps you should sit down as well."

There was a groaning sound from the back room. Artie half stumbled, half lurched in that direction and opened the door. Lying in the bed, alive but looking gravely ill, was James West. Artie felt his legs go from under him and he crumpled to the floor.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

When Artie came to, he found he was still on the floor but his head was in Adriana's lap and she was bathing his forehead with a cold, damp cloth. He felt terrible.

"Good, you are awake. Drink this!" she ordered, holding a cup of cool water to his lips.

Artie drank the water in large gulps, he was hot and thirsty.

"You have become dehydrated," Adriana said. "I expect you have been drinking alcohol and strong coffee. You should drink more water in this climate," she scolded him.

Artie felt very foolish when he remembered his heavy drinking followed by the coffee. He should have known better. He had been neglecting his health since Jim died and now he was paying for it. Then he remembered.

"Jim?" he said.

"I found him in the river this morning. He had escaped from Senor Alvarado's hacienda. I brought him here, to look after him, but I think the wound in his leg has become infected."

Artie attempted to stand up but was brought up short by what felt like a boulder in his skull.

"Ow!" he said.

"You must move more slowly. Let me help you."

Adriana helped Artie to his feet and led him over to the bed where Jim was lying. His partner was sweating profusely, despite the fact that Adriana had stripped him and placed just a thin sheet over him, from the waist down. There was a damp cloth on his forehead.

"I was just going to fetch some more cold water when you arrived," Adriana explained.

"You fetch the water; I'll stay with Jim," Artie said. He was sitting on the side of the bed, looking down at his partner and his heart was soaring in his chest. Jim was alive. Now all they had to do was keep him that way.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


	6. The Patient

**The Night of the Mardi Gras**

Chapter 6

 **The Patient**

Artie was finding it difficult to adjust to the fact that Jim was alive. He had so many questions for him, but for the time being it looked like he would have to wait. Jim was in no condition to speak. He had taken to tossing and turning his head. Artie realised it was probably because he wanted to dislodge the now warm cloth on his forehead. Artie removed it for him, just as Adriana returned with a bowl of cold water.

"Thank you," Artie said, wetting the cloth and wringing the excess water out of it. He laid it back on Jim's head.

"Do you have another cloth?" he asked. "I'd like to try cooling the rest of his body down. I also want to take a look at his leg."

Adriana handed him a second cloth. "Can I do anything to help?" she asked.

"Yes, I mean no, maybe you'd better leave the room."

"There is nothing I have not seen already," she argued. "Who do you think stripped him and placed the sheet over him?"

Artie had to concede the wisdom of her argument. "All right," he said. "You take a cold cloth and start to wipe his body down. I'll deal with his leg."

Adriana started on her task straight away and Jim seemed to calm down a little as the cold cloth was applied to his upper body. Meanwhile, Artie was appalled at his first sight of his partner's leg. The edges of the bullet hole were ragged, swollen and red. There was also an amount of mucky pus.

"I'm going to have to remove the bullet and clean the wound as soon as possible," he told Adriana.

He recalled the last time Jim had been shot. The bullet had hit his shoulder. Thankfully, Sweetie had been there, mostly because she was the one who had accidentally shot him, and she had been equipped with a concoction that had helped prevent the wound from becoming infected. Artie knew that this wound had already been dragged through the water of the river which, while it had washed it, had also brought Jim into contact with goodness knows what, so the wound needed to be cleaned, before and after the bullet was removed.

Lacking any other option, Artie asked Adriana, "Do you have any whisky or other spirit in the house?"

"No, but I will go to the cantina."

"Thank you. I'll heat up some water while you're gone." He watched Adriana leave, not sure at what point he had stopped wanting to arrest her and begun to trust her. Perhaps it was when he realised she had rescued the most precious person in his life and brought him here, where Artie could look after him.

Artie hunted around and found an iron pot, which he filled with water, from the pump, and hung over the fire. With a silent apology to his absent hostess, he found a bed sheet and tore it into strips, for use as bandages. He would buy her a dozen sheets when all this was over.

By the time Adriana returned, the water was hot. Artie took the bottle of whisky from her and she went back to bathing Jim with a cool cloth. Artie took a knife from his pocket, dipped it in the hot water and then doused it with whisky. He also cleaned the wound with hot water and doused that with a liberal amount of the spirit. Jim seemed oblivious to his actions but he was sure that would change once he started to probe the wound.

"I'm going to use the knife now," Artie said. "Can you hold Jim down and keep him from moving?"

"I'll try."

Artie was very careful in the way he tried to pry the bullet from its fleshy sheath. Jim became restless but Adriana was able to prevent him from trying to turn over and Artie had his leg in a firm grip. Jim was probably not even aware of what was actually going on. Eventually, Artie place pressure on the angry flesh surrounding the hole and was able to pop the bullet out. His fingers were slippery with blood and pus and he dropped it and heard it roll away across the wooden floor.

"Hold on just a little longer," he told Adriana.

Next he cleaned the wound with water again, put some alcohol on it, causing Jim to struggle hard against Artie's hold on his leg. He realised it would be a losing battle to clean all of the muck from the wound as that would have meant removing some of the tissue and he didn't have the necessary knowledge to do it. He was wary of bringing in a doctor as he didn't know whom he could trust.

"Steady now, buddy," Artie said. "Nearly finished."

He took the strips of sheeting, made a pad out of one of them, and used another to bind it in place. The rest he put aside for future use. The dressing would have to be changed at least once a day, more often if any blood seeped through.

"That's as much as I can do," Artie said, checking his handiwork.

"I have to leave and go to work at the cantina," Adriana said.

Artie looked as if he was going to argue about this.

"If I don't turn up they may send someone to look for me. That may get back to Senor Alvarado. His men have great influence around here."

"All right," Artie agreed, "But make sure you come back here afterwards. I want a word with you."

Adriana nodded and left.

Now he had done all he could for his friend, Artie had time to take in the fact that Jim was here with him, alive, though he was still worried about his condition. He couldn't sit still for long though, because he had to take over Adriana's role of trying to keep Jim cool. After many hours of this Artie felt his mind drifting and knew he was in danger of falling asleep where he stood. Jim had begun alternating between sweating and shivering, a bad sign. Artie placed some blankets on the bed and sat watching his friend. Artie's head nodded and then fell to his chest. He was asleep.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

When he awoke, Artie found he was still sitting in the chair next to Jim's bed but he was sprawled forward, with his head resting on the blanket. He tried to sit up, to find that Jim had rested his hand on his head while he was asleep. Artie hoped that it meant Jim was aware that he was there but, when he had freed himself and looked down at his friend, he could see that he was still unconscious.

It was early morning and Adriana returned from La Rosa Polenta Cantina to find Artie tending to his patient once more. She had brought some fresh corn tortillas with her and set about making quesadillas, with roast vegetables and cheese. The smell of that and coffee brewing had Artie's mouth watering and he couldn't wait to tuck in when the food was brought to him; the first time he had felt like that since New Orleans. He sat back and ate and drank his fill, all the time keeping an eye on Jim. He had quieted down a lot but he was still obviously very hot and Artie was anxious for the fever to break.

Adriana ate some breakfast and then curled up on an armchair and went to sleep. Artie would have to wait until later to talk to her.

After lunch, Artie could see that, on the whole, Jim didn't seem to be improving and as soon as he removed the dressing he could see that the infection in the wound was getting worse. It was still red and swollen and more pus was visible of a disgusting hue. He thought back to Doctor Loveless and the way he had boasted about cultivating a form of mould to combat infection. If only he had that here now. There was nothing they could do but wait and hope that the infection didn't get even worse and it wouldn't be necessary to amputate. He'd seen enough of that in the army, where it was the usual treatment for festering bullet wounds.

Artie cleaned the wound again, to the best of his ability and replaced the bandages with clean ones. He also tried to get Jim to drink more water. It was difficult because he was only ever half-conscious, and a cup had to be forced between his lips, after which he would swallow automatically.

Adriana appeared at the door.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Not good," Artie said. "We need to keep a close watch on that leg. I'm worried that I didn't clean the wound thoroughly enough. It's difficult to get right down in the soft tissue. I've washed away most of the pus but I don't know if Jim's strong enough to combat the underlying infection on his own."

Adriana looked worried."

"It's nice to know you have a conscience about what you did to my partner," Artie said, "Or have I got it wrong?"

"No senor. You have guessed by now that I am Carla?"

"It dawned on me when I was told that you don't have a sister, let alone a twin."

"Please let me explain, senor."

"Yes, I'd like to hear an explanation from you. What sort of woman are you, who can lead on a decent man like Jim, just to do him harm?"

"You don't understand, Senor, I did not wish to do this thing, but Senor Alderado is a powerful man and not one you can say no to."

"Did you even try?"

"I had no choice, senor. My brother owed Alfredo Alderado money and he threatened to kill him if it was not repaid. He promised to cancel the debt if I helped him to kidnap your friend. He assured me he would not harm him."

Artie sighed. He realised that it would be difficult for someone in Adriana's position to stand up to a man like Alvarado, especially if he was threatening her brother.

"Just tell me one thing," Artie said. "How did you both manage to escape the explosion on the pleasure boat?"

"As soon as we were on board the boat, Senor Alvarado's men knocked James out and stripped him so that his clothes would be found. Then we all slipped from the boat into a small vessel, which took us to the opposite shore. From there we travelled by horse and wagon, day and night until we reached the Mexican border. I returned to Laredo and resumed my real name. Are you going to arrest me?" Adriana asked.

"No, but you'll need to help me arrest Alvarado."

"He never leaves Mexico, Senor. How will you arrest him?"

"I'll come up with a plan but I'm not thinking about that now. First I have to save my partner's life."

Both of them looked down at Jim; he was quieter, a lot of his strength having left him, but he was still burning up.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


	7. Over the Border

**The Night of the Mardi Gras**

Chapter 7

 **Over the Border**

The next day, Jim seemed to have turned the corner, he was cooler and even opened his eyes a couple of times, though he didn't appear to take anything in. Artie removed the bandage to look at his leg and was shocked by what he found. There was a thriving colony of maggots writhing around in the wound. He was about to remove them and clean the wound when it occurred to him that they were actually feeding on the infected flesh, leaving new, pink, healthy tissue behind. There was also a complete absence of the pus that had worried him before. He replaced the bandage with a clean one and decided to check on it again, later in the day.

By the afternoon, Jim had roused enough to be asking for water and Artie was quick to place a cup to his lips. Jim drank greedily and then passed his tongue over his dry lips.

"Jim, Jim, can you hear me?" Artie asked.

Jim mumbled the word, "Artie," showing that he recognised the man who sat by the side of his bed.

Artie couldn't keep a broad smile from his face. Here was progress indeed. Adriana had prepared some soup earlier, for their lunch and Artie knew there was some left in the pot, so he poured some into a bowl for his partner. Feeding him was a hit and miss affair, but Artie was satisfied that Jim had eaten as much as his condition would allow.

Tired out, Artie waited until Jim had quietened into a natural sleep and then dozed off in his chair.

When Artie awoke, he found his partner lying on his neck staring at the ceiling. He noticed this happening several times during the next few hours, until Jim responded to his voice once more.

"Jim, it's me, Artie. Stay with me, buddy. How are you feeling?"

Jim squinted up at him. "Stupid question," he mumbled.

"That's my boy," Artie said, with glee. "We'll soon have you up and about." He fetched more water, determined to keep his friend hydrated, especially as he had lost so much fluid during the fever.

When Adriana arrived back from work, Artie had good news for her.

"I've just looked at the wound on Jim's leg. The infection's gone and it's healing really well. I think we ought to celebrate."

"Good because I brought a bottle of tequila home with me from the cantina."

"Good girl," Artie said. "I'll fetch some cups."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

"I know you feel a lot better," Artie said, "But you should stay in bed until you regain more of the strength you've lost."

Jim was sitting on the side of the bed. "Look, I'm fine. We need to carry out your plan to arrest Alvarado. Besides, I'm tired of bed baths."

"Oh ho," Artie chuckled. "Perhaps, I should ask Adriana to take over then."

"Believe it or not, even that wouldn't tempt me to stay in bed."

"Knowing you, it is a little hard to believe. Look, another day won't make any difference. You can bathe yourself and, if you want to do something, then try some gentle exercise."

Artie had regretted that advice, when he returned later to find Jim doing press-ups. He opened his mouth to tell him what he thought of this foolhardy action and then thought better of it. This was James West. He had learned years ago that, in matters of bravado and fits of strength, Jim would always do exactly as he wanted and he usually got away with it. So, instead of wasting his time, Artie began preparing the food he had gone out to purchase.

He could hear Jim collapse on the floor, then get up, groaning and throw himself on the bed. He'd obviously exhausted himself. Artie shook his head. He had bought a cooked chicken and he now pulled this apart, placing the legs on a plate and using some of the breast to make sandwiches. He covered the bird with a cloth, so that Adriana could have the remainder when she came in.

He took the plate of food into the bedroom and offered it to his partner. As he had expected, Jim took a chicken leg and lay back to pull the flesh from it with his white teeth.

"Mmmm, delicious and a welcome change after all that soup," he said.

"Don't mock the soup," Artie chided him. "It kept you alive."

Jim stopped eating and was quiet for a moment. "Thanks for looking after me," he said. "I know how difficult and frightening it must have been, and I'm really sorry you had to go through all that; I don't know what I would do, if I thought you were dead."

"Well let's hope you don't have to find out. Now finish your lunch."

"Yes, mom," Jim replied, grinning, as he applied himself to the chicken leg once more.

Artie looked at his beloved face. It had been a long and hard journey but it was over now and he could relax, until they tackled Alvarado. He wished he didn't have to involve Jim but he knew his friend wouldn't let him face the enemy alone.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

It was time for Artie to reprise his role as the Texan, William Boudin. First he would have to explain his absence from the Alvarado hacienda, after he had appeared so keen to do business a few days previously. He sent a message to Alvarado, in which he explained that he had overturned his surrey, breaking his leg, and requested that Alvarado visit him in Laredo. He gave his whereabouts as a saloon, where he had moved, with Jim, into one of the upstairs rooms. A reply had been sent in the affirmative and they were now awaiting their quarry's arrival.

Artie was currently lying on the bed, wearing a silk dressing gown over his clothes, and with his right leg in a removable cast.

Jim was disguised as a little old Mexican woman, who was supposed to be taking care of him. He wasn't happy about it but Artie thought it best, as he didn't want Alvarado to recognise his partner. Also it amused him, especially after the teasing he had suffered at Jim's hand when he himself had played a woman in order to rescue him. Now the shoe was on the other foot and a dainty, female foot it was not, so Jim was being made to wear a floor-length dress of black stuff to hide his boots. Artie had made-up his face for him and procured him a dark wig with the hair tied back in an unflattering bun.

Scowling, Jim went to answer the knock at the door and kept his head bowed as he ushered Alfredo Alvaredo into the room, followed by two of his men.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


	8. The Land of the Living

**The Night of the Mardi Gras**

Chapter 8

 **The Land of the Living**

Alvarado strode in and sat in the only armchair; his two men stood behind him, one on either side. Jim kept one eye on them as he busied himself, folding sheets and generally tidying the room, as part of his cover.

"Now then, Senor Boudain," Alvaredo said, "you sent me a message about an invention you have for transporting sperm. Unfortunately, you visited my hacienda on a day when I was busy with an urgent matter. I'm sorry that you now find yourself incapacitated. I am very interested in the potential of your invention."

"I knew you would be. Do you realise what it can mean for a man like yourself? You would no longer have to sell your bulls to customers in Europe; you need only send a vial of their sperm. My invention will keep the material viable during the journey. This way you will have a steady source of income from each of your animals."

"I had imagined something of the sort," Alvarado said. "But tell me, have you approached anyone else with your invention?"

"No, you are the first. I travelled here straight from Texas. I would, of course, handle all the transport. I'm not about to hand my invention over to you."

"That is a shame, Senor Boudain. Perhaps I can persuade you to change your mind."

"I don't think so, Mister."

At this point, Artie and Jim exchanged glances. Both had noticed that, in the face of a man with a broken leg and an old woman, Alvarado's men had relaxed their guard and were not paying as much attention as they should be.

"Do not be hasty, Senor, you have not heard how much money I am willing to pay you."

"You'll have to pay me in American Dollars – now!"

Artie shucked off his leg cast and drew his weapon, at the same time. He shot the gun out of the hand of one of Alvarado's men. Jim was across the room and threw himself at the other man, while Artie held Alvarado at gunpoint and the man he had shot, nursed his hand. Jim knocked the man out with a couple of blows to the jaw, and then turned to face his partner.

"That went very well, don't you think?" he said, rubbing his hands. His wig was askew and he was now recognisable.

"You!" Alvarado said, with contempt.

"Yes, me, come back to bite you on the backside. Now you will have a chance to experience the monotony of sitting in a small cell for the rest of _your_ life."

"Right, Jim, let's get them back to the Wanderer."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie and Jim took their prisoners, by train, to San Antonio and left them with the authorities there. Then they were free to return to Washington.

Jim had met and fallen in love with Jasper, especially when he found out the little dog had kept Artie company, when he could not. He liked to play with him and tried to teach him tricks and Jasper had taken to sleeping on the end of Jim's bed. Artie wasn't jealous, well only a little. He had come to think of the dog as his, but then he realised that both of them belonged to him, and he liked the fact that they got on so well together.

"Thanks for wiring Colonel Richmond," Jim said.

"I thought he might have a heart attack if he received one from you, out of the blue. I had to break it to him gently."

"It was nice of the President to send a reply."

"You should have seen him when he thought you were dead. I'm surprised he didn't turn up in person to make sure you really weren't dead."

"I feel so bad for all of you and I'm really touched at how much you all missed me."

"Jim, you're closer than a brother to me. Of course I missed you. I could hardly function for a while. If only I'd caught up with those men more quickly, I could have saved you from imprisonment and being shot."

"It's no good worrying about what might have been. I'm here now and I owe that to you and Carla or should I say Adriana."

"You seem to have forgiven her for her part in your kidnap."

"Poor girl," Jim said. "She really had no idea that they were going to blow up the boat and kill all those people. Without her, I would have been recaptured or even died from that gunshot wound. Anyway, you know me; I'm not one to bear a grudge, especially in the case of such a beautiful woman."

"Yes, I know you," Artie said. "They've agreed to let her go free, in exchange for her evidence."

"I'm glad of that. How long before we're back in Washington?"

"I'm afraid we're not going straight home."

"We're no? This is news to me."

"Well, I visited Sweetie on the way to Laredo and kind of promised her that I would visit her again on the way back."

"We're going to see Sweetie? Great! Has she got any plates left?"

Artie chuckled. "I think so, though one did break while I was there. Oh, and you'd better keep Jasper out of her way."

"Why?"

"Because he fought her for a pair of her pantaloons while I was there."

Jim laughed out loud and Artie thought he had never heard a more welcome sound. "Why do things like that always happen to Sweetie?"

"She's like a magnet for disaster."

"How long before we arrive in Beaumont?" Jim asked.

"I don't know. Ask Oren. Why do you want to know?"

"I need time to put on my bullet-proof vest," Jim said.

"Very funny," Artie said, pouring champagne into two glasses and handing one to Jim.

"What's this for?" Jim asked.

"A toast," Artie said. He raised his glass. "James, my boy, welcome to the land of the living."

"Artie, my man, it's good to be back.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


End file.
